We Have To Choose Between What Is

Death Comes For Us All In The End.

Harry Felt Winded, As Though He Had Just Walked Into Something Heavy. He Had Last Seen Those Cool Gray Eyes Through Slits In A Death Eater’s Hood, And Last Heard That Man’s Voice Jeering In A Dark Graveyard While Lord Voldemort Tortured Him. He Could Not Believe That Lucius Malfoy Dared Look Him In The Face; He Could Not Believe That He Was Here, In The Ministry Of Magic, Or That Cornelius Fudge Was Talking To Him, When Harry Had Told Fudge Mere Weeks Ago That Malfoy Was A Death Eater.

I Am Proud Of Having Done What I've Done. Very Proud.

Their Reward For Enduring The Awful Experience Was The Right To Tell People About It.

Your Great-aunt Muriel Doesn't Agree, I Just Met Her Upstairs While She Was Giving Fleur The Tiara. "she Said 'oh Dear, Is This The Muggle Born?' And Then, 'bad Posture, Skinny Ankles.'" Don't Take It Personally, She's Rude To Everyone," Said Ron. "talking About Muriel?" Inquired George, Reemerging From The Marquee With Fred. "yeah, She's Just Told Me My Ears Are Lopsided. Old Bat.